


Memento Mori

by lonelyhourglass47



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyhourglass47/pseuds/lonelyhourglass47
Summary: What happens when your best friend pushes you too far, driving you to the point of insanity? How can you ignore how much hatred you have for someone while loving them at the same time?Ethan knows what he's going to do, but the repercussions are unthinkable. He just hopes he can escape the awful world he inadvertently created for himself.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 25
Kudos: 80





	1. The Perfect Crime

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I would never want to see either of the boys (or Amy) hurt in any way! I just had the idea for this fic and ran with it. I know the story is a bit crazy, but hopefully it's enjoyable to read!

_U-nus, An-nus, U-nus, An-nus_. He could still hear the fear in Mark’s pleading voice, his muffled screams covered by Ethan’s hand as the knife tore through layers of flesh. Ethan remembered vividly the image of all saturation and color leaving Mark’s eyes, his body going limp on the table as he finally stopped resisting.

_U-nus, U-nus, U-nus, U-nus_. Maybe if Mark hadn’t driven Ethan to such insanity with all of the insults he threw at him, trying to excuse them as “bits” for their videos, he never would have done what he did that day. But although Ethan went crazy enough to kill him, he loved Mark. He thought it was obvious that he admired Mark from the shadows, yet Mark had been inconsiderate enough to make Ethan feel so horrible about himself day after day, one recording after another. They said it was all supposed to be an act for the camera, but Ethan knew Mark well, and he could hear the pure hatred in Mark’s voice with every insult that rolled off of his tongue. And Ethan couldn’t take it, being put down and reduced to nothing by his idol, his love.

So when they had finished recording the “Discussing the Idea of Murdering Each Other but It’s Just a Joke” video, and Amy had left the room to begin editing, Ethan knew this was it, his perfect opportunity. He collected his things and told Mark he was leaving. His footsteps echoed through the house as he approached the front door, and he opened it, called out a goodbye, and closed it again without first stepping outside. He removed his shoes from his feet so that he could quietly walk down the hall, and Mark was surprised to see him again when he reentered the room full of destroyed watermelons. Ethan mumbled something about forgetting something, but Mark heard a click when Ethan closed the door after entering.

“Hey, why’d you lock the door?” he asked. He swore he saw Ethan twitch, which was slightly concerning.

Ethan picked up the hammer from the table and approached his friend. “Oh, you’ll see,” he said, bringing the butt end of the hammer down on Mark’s head before the latter could react. Now that Mark was unconscious, Ethan lifted his body and placed it on the table, swiping the other objects off of it. This plan was perfect since the room was soundproof and Amy wouldn’t be able to hear a thing from the other side of the house, especially with her being upstairs and all.

“What the hell? Ethan?” Mark called out after regaining consciousness. He tried to sit up, but there were leather binds on his wrists and ankles holding him to the table.

“Oh, you’re finally awake!” Ethan exclaimed, walking up to the table with a long, sharp knife in hand. “I’ve been waiting _so_ long to have some fun with you, Markimoo!”

“I-Is this a joke?” asked Mark, his voice shaking. “Why do you have that knife?”

“Well because, oh—unfortunately I don’t have the time to sit here and explain my entire evil plan to you like in the movies,” Ethan said. “I’d prefer to get right to it.” He stepped closer to Mark, holding the blade against his throat with a devious smirk. “I’m going to make you suffer. You’ll finally understand what it’s like to be given so much pain by those you love.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Mark questioned, fear evident in his voice.

“Poor Mark, did you never realize how much your words hurt me?” Ethan asked, his voice suddenly more hurt rather than insane. “Every time you would degrade me, call me lesser than you, even if it were for a video, I could tell you meant it. I know that look in your eye.” He pressed the blade into Mark’s flesh, just enough to barely break the skin. “It’s a shame you have to suffer now for it.”

“Are you g-going to kill me?” Mark asked, his heart rate going crazy as the knife cut into him.

Ethan smiled. He fucking _smiled_. “Well of course, I can’t do this to you and let you live to tell the tale, or else you’d put me in prison!” A laugh erupted from his throat, eyes crinkling in chaotic joy.

“You’re insane,” Mark murmured. “Ethan, please, you don’t have to do this. I’ll do anything you want, anything.”

“Aw, you’re begging for me to spare your life,” said Ethan. “Sadly, you never spared my feelings, so this is only fair.” He used the knife to slice Mark’s shirt open, exposing his chest and stomach.

“Please! This isn’t you!” Mark exclaimed.

“This is me now. And whose fault is that?” Ethan cocked his head, dragging the blade down the middle of Mark’s chest, watching as the skin split and blood began to bead at the surface.

“Ethan! I’m sorry, I’ll stop insulting you, I never meant to actually hurt your feelings,” Mark said breathlessly, close to going into shock at the situation he found himself in.

“Hm, it doesn’t matter much now,” said Ethan. “It’s not like that’s the only reason I have for torturing you, that just wouldn’t be worth the risk of being charged with murder and serving a life sentence, you know?” He used the knife to make another cut intersecting the first, so that Mark now had what looked like a plus sign carved into his body.

“Agh—what’s the other reason?” Mark asked, trying to stay as calm as possible while being sliced open by one of his close friends. He struggled to free his hands from their binds, but he knew there was no escaping them.

“Well, for starters Mark, you must have known how much I love you,” Ethan said, his tone laced with admiration. “But you’ve hurt me so much, not only by making me feel worthless, but also by being with someone else. Don’t worry, I’ll spare Amy’s life, but you should know how taunting it is to see you with someone else every single day, knowing you’re out of my reach. Knowing that you could never want me because of her—“

“I do want you!” Mark blurted. “I don’t want Amy, not as much as I want you. I love you!”

Ethan sighed, picking up the knife and examining it. “Mark, as if I’d believe your lies. You’re only saying those things so I’d untie you and let you get away. And even if you did love me, I can’t risk letting you roam free after attempting to murder you.”

Mark groaned, the fear and adrenaline running through his veins enough to overpower the pain he felt from Ethan’s cutting. “Don’t you feel sick making me suffer through this?” asked Mark. “Why couldn’t you just kill me while I was unconscious?”

“Because then I wouldn’t get to have any fun!” Ethan whined, stamping his foot on the ground. “I want to see you hurt, Mark. I want to get my revenge.”

“People who get revenge in these types of ways always end up getting nothing out of it!” Mark reasoned. “If you k-kill me, you’ll feel horrible! It won’t make you feel any better!” Ethan stared down at Mark’s chest. He wanted nothing more than to carve his own name in the flesh there, to claim Mark as his, but he knew it would be a dead giveaway if the police saw Ethan’s name carved into his victim, no, into his prize. “If you let me go, I promise you I won’t tell a soul. I’ll even still be your friend! I swear on my father’s grave, I can make things better, I—”

Ethan pressed the flat side of the knife against Mark’s lips. “Shh, you can’t coax me out of this, Marky. I love you, but I’m already in too deep. And since you’re being so talkative and annoying, I think it’s about time you breathed your last breath.”

He gripped the weapon firmly and pressed the tip gently against the skin protecting Mark’s heart, knowing for certain that if he stabbed there, the blade would pierce directly through the major artery. Mark started to scream, probably praying that somehow Amy would hear him, but Ethan used his free hand to cover Mark’s mouth. The latter squirmed and writhed on the table, viciously wiggling his hands and feet to try to free himself before it was too late. Ethan took a deep breath and licked his lips.

“I love you, Mark,” he said fondly. “At least now since I can’t have you, no one can.” With those words fresh off of his tongue, he plunged the knife into Mark’s body, the blade tearing through his heart as his eyes went wide and he screamed as loud as he could, but it did nothing for him. Ethan leaned down, removing his hand from Mark’s mouth so that he could kiss him just one time before he died. When he pulled away, Mark had stopped struggling, and the color drained from his eyes. Ethan pulled the blade from Mark’s chest and licked off the warm blood, tasting Mark even though he knew it was silly to do so in such a way. He ran a hand through his hair, staring down at Mark’s lifeless body. Time for phase three: hiding the evidence.

Quickly and quietly, Ethan got a rag from the table on the other side of the room and used it to wipe his fingerprints from the knife. He carefully set the knife back on the table that held Mark’s corpse, and he stuffed the rag in his pocket so that he could burn it later along with his clothes, which had a few blood splatters on them. He silently sprinted to the front of the house to retrieve his shoes, and then he slipped out the back door so that Amy wouldn’t hear anyone leaving. The deed was done.

Although Ethan wasn’t there to hear Amy’s horrified shriek when she found Mark dead on the table, he had a pretty good idea of how it would have sounded. A day later, Ethan was summoned to Mark and Amy’s house to be questioned by the police. When he arrived, he tried to console her as tears ran down her face.

“I’m so sorry Amy,” he said, using his acting skills to make himself tear up as well. “In all honesty, I think I loved him as much as you did.”

“Ethan Nestor?” A policeman asked, entering the room. “We’re ready to hear your statement.”

Ethan was brought into Mark’s dining room to be interrogated. He did his best to look upset. “Now, Mr. Nestor, you were at Mark’s house on the day of his death, correct?” the officer asked.

“You can call me Ethan,” Ethan said, making his voice waver to appear on the verge of crying. “And yes, he and I filmed a video for our Youtube channel that day.” He wanted to get right to the chase and give all of the details of the afternoon (the fake story anyway), but he knew that if he was too specific, he would sound suspicious to the police.

“Alright. When did you leave his house?” asked the officer.

“Um, I think it was around 4:30,” Ethan said, remembering that he left Mark’s house the second time (the time after he pretended to) at about 5:00.

“Where were you for the rest of the day?”

“I went home to my apartment and showered. I remember getting a call from Amy about an hour later, and she told me what had happened.”

“I see. Is there any way we can confirm that you were at your apartment at the time of your friend’s death?” the man asked, his expression hard to decipher.

“I don’t know for sure,” Ethan replied. “You could ask some of the other people in my apartment complex, they might have heard me come in.” He wiped a stray tear from his eye and sniffled for good measure.

The officer sighed. “Alright, that’s all I have to ask you. Though I will ask that you stick around while I question the girl.”

Ethan nodded and got up from his chair, walking back into the living room where Amy sat, trying to pull herself together. She went into the dining room, and Ethan could hear every word she said.

“Ms. Nelson, tell me what happened yesterday after you left the room your boyfriend was murdered in.” Ethan cringed. Why did the officer have to say the word “murdered” right in front of Mark’s devastated girlfriend? There was no way these police would find out who committed the crime.

“I went up to Mark’s editing room to edit the video they were m-making,” said Amy. “A few minutes later, I heard Ethan le-eave, he said goodbye and I heard the front door shut. An hour or so later, I went to ask Mark if he was hungry for dinner, and I had to search the whole house for him until I found him in the room, a-and—“

“Okay, that’s enough. I’m very sorry for your loss,” said the man. “So you’re sure Ethan left? Did you hear anyone else come into the house?”

“N-no, but I can only hear the front door open from upstairs when I don’t have my headphones on. I was editing at the time, so I wouldn’t have known if anyone came into the house after Ethan left.” Ethan chuckled. So he didn’t have to go through the back door when he left. Amy wouldn’t have heard him. Oh well, better safe than sorry.

“Could you call him in here for a second?”

Ethan was told to come back into the dining room, and the policeman asked him another question. “Ethan, did you lock the door when you left to make sure no one could break in?”

Ethan gasped, pretending to be shocked. “No, I left it unlocked. Do you think—does this mean it’s my fault Mark is—is—“

Amy put a hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s mine for not hearing an intruder come into my own home.” Her eyes grew cold, guilt practically pouring from her words.

“Amy, don’t blame yourself,” Ethan said softly. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

The police promised they would search hard for whoever killed Mark, and Ethan felt relief over not being suspected in the slightest. Mark’s funeral happened a week later, and Ethan was glad to see that the black and white casket they had ordered was being put to good use. And damn, he looked good wearing his black “unus” suit at the funeral. It was almost funny that Mark was dressed in his white suit while everyone around him adorned black clothing. Ethan resisted the urge to laugh. They would think he was crazy!

A few days later, Amy announced she was moving out of state to be with her family during these rough times. Fortunately, she decided not to sell the house. After she moved out, Ethan used the spare key Mark had given him a while back to get into the house. He wanted to be there one last time, to reminisce on all the good times he had had with Mark before he passed away. Ethan sat on the couch in the living room, peering at the floor when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned his head to the side to see who was there, and he nearly passed out at the sight.

A man with dark, wavy hair, considerably paler than Ethan remembered him to be, and dressed in a white suit. Ethan couldn’t form a coherent sentence in his head in such a state of shock. The name slipped from his chapped lips, the only thing he could think to say.

“M-Mark?”


	2. The Return

“I love you,” Mark confessed, stepping closer to Ethan. The latter stood and backed away.

“You can’t be real. How are you real?” Ethan questioned, panic-stricken and confused. Mark kept his distance, not wanting to concern Ethan further.

“I know you think you killed me--”

“No, Mark, I stabbed you in the heart! I saw life leave your eyes! So maybe I’m just dreaming, or--or you have a sick twin brother who’s playing a prank on me, but you can’t be standing in front of me. It’s impossible. You’re dead.”

“I’m right here!” Mark exclaimed. “I’m right here, clearly alive and breathing, and despite the new fear I have of you since you tried to kill me, I want to be with you.”

“You cannot be serious.” Ethan dragged a hand down his face and stared at Mark with wide, disbelieving eyes. “This can’t be real.”

“Ethan Mark Nestor-Darling, do you honestly think you could be hallucinating this?” Mark motioned to himself and smiled.

“Yes, I think I could be hallucinating this because maybe I’m a little bit crazy, I mean I literally murdered you last week and now you’re seemingly standing right in front of me. Okay, okay, I need to calm down, I’ll just--tell you what, I’m going to go take a nap and hopefully you’ll be gone by the time I wake up.” Ethan pushed past Mark and walked upstairs, shaking his head as if to cure himself of the obvious hallucination.

“Don’t sleep in my bed!” Mark called out to Ethan. “There’s a guest bedroom for a reason!”

Four hours later, Ethan sat up in bed, looking over to the window to see hardly any light streaming through the curtains. He fumbled around for his phone, eventually finding it and slipping it into his pocket before heading downstairs. When he reached the first floor, he turned and was immediately met with Mark, who simply sat on the couch scrolling through social media on his phone. Ethan yelled, exasperated, and slid down to the floor.

“Hey, yikes, are you okay?” asked Mark. 

“Why are you still here? You are dead, in the grave, far away from this house, why am I still seeing you, why why why--”

“Ethan, you have got to shut up for a second and look at me.” Mark lifted Ethan’s chin so they were peering into each other’s eyes. “You didn’t kill me. I know you think you did, and it seems impossible that I’m somehow here, but you have to trust me.”

“Mark, if you’re really here and I’m not just imagining things, then how the fuck did it one hundred percent seem like I stabbed you last week and you died?” Ethan asked, trying to breathe normally despite the circumstances.

Mark chuckled. “Did you take your meds the morning we filmed that video?” Ethan shook his head. “I’m going to tell you what happened, and you can choose whether or not to believe me. After Amy left and we were done filming, you knocked me out and tied me to the table, yeah? Well, when you ‘stabbed me in the heart’, the thing is that you didn’t. You kind of just thrusted the knife into the table and then started mumbling to yourself, stuff about ‘hiding the evidence’, and then you left.” Ethan tried to speak, but Mark shushed him.

“After that, I called for Amy for a while until she came in and found me. She asked me what the hell happened and untied me and all that, and of course I told her that you kind of went a little insane, so we went to your house to see what was going on and if you were okay. You were just pacing up and down your living room, and you didn’t even hear us, so Amy went to your doctor to see if there’s anything we could do to help you. That was earlier today.”

“What? Today? But I--”

“Today, yeah. Anyway, I drove you back over here so I could keep an eye on you, and I left the room for like twenty seconds at one point, and when I came back you started freaking out about how I couldn’t be real and that you were hallucinating and stuff.”

“Oh,” Ethan said, looking down at the floor. “That, uh, that actually makes a lot more sense than me killing you. Why would I ever kill you?”

Mark nervously rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding looking at Ethan. “Yeah, well, I should also mention in case you don’t remember, you confessed a lot of stuff about being in love with me while you were threatening me with the knife.”

Ethan sighed. “I know. I also know that you said you want me, but that was a lie you told to get me to stop, wasn’t it?”

“No,” Mark said firmly. “No, it wasn’t a lie at all. Of course I love Amy, which is why I won’t do anything with you. Though in all honesty, I’ve found myself having some feelings for you too.”

“Really?” Before Mark could answer, the front door opened, and Amy walked inside.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

Ethan stood up and ran a hand through his hair, watching as Mark stood up as well. “I was just having a conversation with Mark. I think I’ll be okay now that I know what’s going on.”

Amy wore an expression of confusion. “With Mark? Ethan, are you feeling alright?” She chuckled nervously, glancing around the room.

“Yeah, I mean, I know I must have been acting a little crazy earlier, but everything has been cleared up. Is something wrong?” he asked her.

Amy’s expression twisted into one of concern. “Ethan. . . You know we’re alone in here, right?”

Ethan looked over at Mark, who didn’t say anything. “What are you talking about? Mark is right here. Surely you’re joking.”

“I’m being completely serious,” Amy said, taking a step forward and staring at Ethan with worry. “Ethan, there’s no one there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get even crazier...


	3. Turning The Tables

Ethan’s eyes shot open and he noticed he was back in the watermelon-filled room. He tried to sit up, but his wrists and ankles were restrained to the table he laid upon. Mark approached him, a knife in his hand as he laughed.

“I’ve been waiting far too long to be able to do this,” he said, his voice deep and sultry like always but somehow more intimidating now. “Every time I see you you never fail to annoy me to the point of wanting to strangle you. Well, now you’re tied to this table, and I’ve got this very sharp, very beautiful knife.”

Ethan struggled against his restraints, his heart practically beating out of his chest in fear. “Mark, Mark, this isn’t like you, I know--”

“You’re done talking,” said Mark, clapping a hand over Ethan’s mouth, who tried to scream. “Aw, look at you. Your eyes are so wide, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” If Ethan wasn’t clearly about to be hurt, he’d have laughed at the irony of the statement considering Mark may or may not be dead. Was this a hallucination? If it was real life, did it mean that Ethan never tried to kill Mark, and that he never went crazy? What was going on?

“God, I hate you so much. I’m going to enjoy this. Although, it would be rude of me to make you suffer, so I’m going to make it quick for you. Now, in case you have any last words, I’m going to uncover your mouth, but know that no one will hear you if you scream. It’s just me here.” Mark smirked and removed his hand from Ethan’s mouth, and the latter gasped and thought of what he wanted to say. “Well? Come on now, I don’t have all day, and if you’re trying to stall me it won’t work. I’ll ask you again: any last words, Ethan Nestor?”

“I just have a question!” exclaimed Ethan.

Mark cocked his head. “And what is that?”

“Why did you. . .” Ethan bit his lip and stared into Mark’s eyes, wanting to see them one last time. “Why did you choose me to do Unus Annus with you if I always annoyed you so much even beforehand?”

Mark laughed, staring down at Ethan with such hatred that the boy wanted to shrivel up and die right then and there, without hearing the answer to his question. “I guess I just wanted to see how long I could take being around you before I lost it.”

“‘Not a masochist’ my ass,” Ethan mumbled, and Mark definitely heard it.

“Memento mori, Ethan,” Mark said, holding the knife to Ethan’s throat. “If there’s an afterlife, or if you go to heaven or whatever, put in a good word for me.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell the higher power that despite murdering someone, you’re a lovely person,” said Ethan. 

“That’s enough out of you.” Mark pressed the blade into Ethan’s skin, a smirk finding its way onto Mark’s lips. “Goodbye.”

A sharp, stinging pain erupted in Ethan’s throat, and he lost all vision in an instant. The next thing he knew, he wasn’t being led into the afterlife; he was bolting up in bed, screaming. He heard quick footsteps in the hall, and the door opened. Mark entered the room and rushed over to Ethan, heat enveloping the younger of the two as he threw the covers off of himself. 

“Are you okay?” Mark asked, stricken with concern for his friend. Ethan scrambled backwards, away from Mark, and ended up falling off of the bed in the process. He backed up against the wall, unable to breathe because, well, what the fuck is happening?

“Ethan, can you hear me? What’s wrong?” Ethan tried to catch his breath, but he was shaking and gasping for air and he saw black spots in the corners of his vision and Mark was slowly approaching him and what if he tried to hurt him--

“Ethan!” Suddenly, his vision returned and he stared at Mark, who had crouched down in front of him and was shaking his shoulders to snap him out of hysteria. Ethan sucked in a breath and held it, afraid to speak and finding himself frozen. 

“You need to breathe,” said Mark, rubbing Ethan’s shoulders to comfort him. “It’s okay, you’re okay, whatever’s going on, I’m right here for you,” he added sweetly. Ethan tried to forget about everything that had happened prior to this moment so that he could calm himself down enough to hopefully find out what’s really going on. He tried to follow Mark’s steady breathing, and soon, he brought himself down to a level of mere confusion rather than concern and fear. He practically blocked out the thought of either of them murdering each other, and pretended that everything was normal for the time being so he could ask where he was and what was happening.

“We filmed the ‘killing each other’ video earlier today,” Mark explained after Ethan had asked. “You must have been pretty tired, because you passed out on the couch when we were done. I carried you up here so you’d be more comfortable. Can you tell me why you were screaming and freaking out when I came in here?”

Ethan took a deep breath, standing up and walking back over to the bed, where he sat back down slowly before looking up at Mark. “I feel like I’m going crazy,” he admitted, his voice breaking as tears came to his eyes. “I guess I was just having nightmares, but I dreamt that I actually killed you after we filmed that video, but you came back a week later, but then it turned out that you weren’t real, then I woke up and you were the one who killed me and then I really woke up and now here we are. I’m so confused and I’m kind of afraid that this isn’t real either.”

Mark frowned, joining Ethan on the bed and wrapping an arm around him. “I’m so sorry you dreamt all of that, it sounds awful. But I promise you’ve just been asleep the whole time. It had to be nightmares. Hey, you’re awake now though, so it’s all okay.”

“How can I believe you?” questioned Ethan, reluctance and hesitation in his tone.

“Well, if you’re in a dream and you realize you’re in one, you can control stuff, right?” Ethan nodded. “Okay, so try to make something appear or change where we are or something.” Ethan pondered for a moment before concentrating on the wall, and after a minute or two he looked back at Mark and gave a shy laugh. 

“I guess I’m not dreaming anymore,” he said sheepishly.

“What did you try to do?” asked Mark, curious. He nudged Ethan, who only laughed louder.

Ethan confessed, “I tried to spawn a bunch of melons, but clearly it didn’t work.” Then, they were both laughing, and Ethan felt a whole lot better, the heaviness in his chest replaced with relief. Mark said he was going to head downstairs to see what Amy was up to, and Ethan said he’d come down in a minute. When Mark left, Ethan looked around the room, and everything honestly seemed okay. Finally.

Ethan got up and stretched a bit before sauntering over to the door, feeling light and happy for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, though apparently it had only been a few hours. He put a hand on the doorknob and turned, opening the door to reveal--

Wait a minute. A hospital?


	4. Chaos

“Oh, he’s awake,” a nurse muttered seemingly to herself as she looked down the hall at Ethan. They were surrounded by white, and it was almost blinding. Why was Mark’s house suddenly a hospital? Ethan assumed he was still dreaming, and at this point, would he ever really wake up? In real life, it might only be 90 seconds or so of dreaming, but for Ethan, it had already been over a week. If Mark hadn’t killed him, then the situation surely was in the process of doing so.

The nurse walked down the hall towards him, a clipboard in her hand. “How are you feeling, Mr. Nestor? Do you remember what happened?” Ethan shook his head, feeling the need to scream in frustration. “You’re here because of an accident that occurred yesterday,” the nurse explained. “Your friend tried to kill you.”

The woman’s eyes shifted from Ethan’s to something behind him, and Ethan instinctively turned. Mark stood directly behind him, staring at him with a hammer gripped tightly in one of his fists. He had a look of pure hatred in his eyes, it was unmistakable. Mark raised his weapon, and all Ethan could do was stand there in shock. Time seemed to slow as Mark brought the hammer down, but before it could make contact with Ethan, he woke up for what seemed like the millionth time. The only difference was that this time, he was in his own bed.

The covers that wrapped around his body and the pillow that supported his head served as the only comforting things in this insane situation. His first thought was to check his phone to see what day it was as he sat up in bed. He immediately knew he had to still be dreaming--or whatever this was--because the date displayed on his screen was November 15th, 2020. The end of Unus Annus. Ethan felt his head throbbing, an immense pressure there that made everything so much worse. The next thing he noticed was the notification on his screen: a text from Amy.

“ _I know you killed him. You’re going to pay_.”

Despite thinking he was still in a dream, Ethan decided to call Mark, because is Mark really dead now and why can’t he escape this insane nightmare? As soon as he tapped the button to call Mark, he blinked, and he found himself suddenly back in the same room it all began.

Mark stood next to him behind the table, and Ethan looked up to see the cameras rolling. Then, Mark’s phone began to ring, so he picked it up and answered the call. As soon as he uttered the word “hello”, Ethan was in his own bedroom again, his phone in his hand. Hesitantly, he lifted the phone up to his ear. He could hear Mark breathing on the other end, and Ethan, losing sanity by the second, begged, “Please tell me I’m not dreaming!”

Mark sucked in a breath and responded, “You are dreaming. I’m dead.”

Ethan threw his phone across the room, letting out a choked sob as he grabbed onto his hair and pulled. He felt like he could never escape this, whatever this was. He wanted to take time to assess his options, but his patience had run out, and the only thing he could think to do was frightening and quite possibly the highest risk he could take.

If he was in a dream, he knew he couldn’t just make himself wake up willy-nilly. If he could, it would have already happened. His only choice was to commit suicide--which sounded awful, but it truly was his only chance at waking up. But, on the off chance that he wasn’t in a dream, such an act would result in him ending his own life for real. Ethan took a deep breath, trying to think logically. It had to be a dream. All signs pointed towards this being a dream. And if it wasn’t, well, he was clearly going crazy anyway, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to live in a world where reality constantly shifted around him. He had to do this, even if he might not wake up. He couldn’t live like this, stuck in a twisted world where he spiraled further down to insanity with each passing minute of his existence.

Slowly, cautiously, he got out of bed and opened his bedroom door. He instantly knew for a fact, one hundred percent, that this was only a nightmare due to his new surroundings, and despite the fear within him he almost felt relieved to know he could finally end all of this. He tilted his head down to see that rather than stepping into his hallway, he would be stepping outside. As Ethan peered down at the ground, he could see that he had to be at least fifty stories from it, maybe more. He had inadvertently found his opportunity, judging by the fact that he couldn’t go anywhere but down, plummeting hundreds of feet towards death.

Ethan sucked in one final breath and stepped out of his room, falling towards the ground. This was the end of whatever nightmare this had to be, he was sure of it. He let himself fall, the distance closing between him and the ground below, until there was a single visceral instant of blinding pain. And that was it. The end of the line.

For a moment, Ethan no longer existed.


	5. No More Sleep

The sun shone through the curtains, brightening up Ethan’s bedroom. He turned onto his back and waited a moment before opening his eyes, afraid that he might still be stuck in a nightmare. After taking a few deep breaths, he let his eyes open, staring at his ceiling. He could definitely say he felt lighter and better, but there was still the underlying fear that he might not have escaped the hell he had gone through. He felt groggy, as though he had really awoken from a long, long slumber, and after adjusting to his surroundings, he grabbed his phone from its resting place beside him.

He paused before turning the device on, afraid of seeing a different date on his screen than what he’d expect. He blinked a few times, swallowing down his fear as he pressed the home button and glanced at the date and time. 9:00, February 12, 2020. Judging by the sun still being out, he could only assume it was nine in the morning. And, seeing that the date was the same as the day they originally filmed their violent video in whatever frightening reality Ethan had found himself in, it could only mean one thing.

They hadn’t filmed the video yet.

Ethan wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling that all of the madness and torture he had endured stemmed from recording that video, and not just because it was the first sign of something being off. Even thinking about it now made him uncomfortable, and anxiety spread through his chest. He tried to shove the feelings down so he could think of what to do next, but he was interrupted when his phone rang with a call from Mark. Mark. He couldn’t help but be the slightest bit afraid of Mark by this point, even though he was sure everything that had happened before was only a dream. He shook his head and answered the phone, immediately beginning with, “Mark? Am I alive?” God, he immediately cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help but ask. Even if it sounded odd to Mark, Ethan was sure he would forget about it pretty quickly.

He could practically hear Mark’s confusion on the other line. “Uh, I sure hope so. You were alive when I saw you yesterday. Have you been smoking weed or something?”

“What? No! No, sorry, I just. . . I had the craziest dream,” Ethan said breathlessly.

“Oh, okay,” Mark responded, not questioning him further on the matter. “Anyway, we need to film the ‘killing each other’ video today. Can you come over in, like, the next hour?”

Ethan’s eyes went wide, and he sat up in bed. “NO!” he shouted, his mind hazy as his anxiety level rose. “I-I mean, can we forget about that video and record something else instead? Please?”

After Ethan’s little outburst, concern was evident in Mark’s voice. “Yeah, yeah. I thought we both liked the idea, but if you don’t want to do it we don’t have to. Can I ask what changed your mind?”

Ethan had a feeling Mark would make fun of him for not wanting to record the video because of a nightmare he had, because obviously Mark couldn’t understand what Ethan had gone through. “The reason sounds kind of silly when I think about it. . .” He bit his lip and considered telling Mark. 

“Well, I’m a little worried about you. I just want to know if you’re okay,” Mark said softly.

Ethan sighed. “I just--it’s just that I had this horrible nightmare that seemed like it lasted a week. It all started with that video, actually. . . I know it sounds so stupid, but I’m really shaken up. I kept waking up in the dream and there were like ten different realities I kept finding myself in and I didn’t know if I would ever really wake up, and the only reason I am awake right now is because I had to kill myself in the dream. I mean, I hope I’m awake. I don’t know if I can trust anything anymore. But I’m pretty sure I’m really awake this time.” Mark didn’t respond for a while, so Ethan added, “I feel like I shouldn’t have said anything, sorry. I know you don’t understand.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” said Mark. “That dream you had sounds like it was hell. I’m the one who’s sorry; I can’t believe you had to go through that.”

“I just hope I’m talking to the real Mark,” Ethan said honestly.

“You are. So, when can you come over?”

After filming that day (and not filming their violent video idea), Ethan was pretty convinced he was finally awake. A few days passed, and he thought about the nightmare less until it was only a small memory in the back of his mind. He began to forget the details of what had happened, and just how horrible it was. Finally, he felt like his normal self again, and he could believe himself when he would think he was back in the real world.

Mark sat in a chair next to a hospital bed, his hand holding the patient’s. A single tear slipped down his cheek as he mentally cursed himself for letting this happen. He glanced at his Apple watch, the date screaming at him. February 15, 2020. Amy stood behind him.

“Do you want some alone time with him?” she asked softly. 

Mark nodded. “Someone needs to check on the dogs anyway. Thank you.” Amy left, and Mark lifted his other hand up to card his fingers through the patient’s soft hair. Mark inhaled and exhaled shakily, feeling the need to speak.

“I know you might not be able to hear me,” he said quietly, clearing his throat and attempting to speak a bit louder. “It’s been three days, Ethan. Three days since I put you in here. You need to know that it was an accident. I would never, ever hurt you on purpose. After all, I love you. And I know that we’ve been friends for so long, and I’ve never said anything about this before because I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship. But Ethan, I love you. Not just as a friend; not as an amazing coworker. If I wasn’t in a relationship with Amy, I’d have asked you out a long time ago.

“Ethan, I need you to wake up. If you stay like this, or if you--if you d-die, it will be my fault. You have no idea how fucking guilty I feel. You just moved so fast. . . I never should have decided to pretend to hit you with a hammer of all things for a bit. I won’t be able to live with myself if you stay in this coma, which is why I hope you can somehow hear me. . .

“Please wake up. There are so many people who care about you who can’t lose you. I-I can’t lose you. And you deserve to keep living your best life. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Mark leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Ethan’s temple. He held his hand tighter and let himself cry in earnest, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ethan. Please wake up. Please.”

Ethan, while sitting next to Mark on the latter’s couch in what he believed to be real life, heard a voice in his head. Not the voice in your head that you hear when you read things silently or think to yourself, no. It was a voice that didn’t belong to him. He glanced over at Mark, but the man wasn’t speaking to him. He was staring at his laptop screen, focused on whatever he was in the middle of doing. Ethan shook his head and blinked a few times, but the voice didn’t go away. He could swear he heard jumbled apologies, soaked in guilt. He looked around at his surroundings, and for some reason, he felt out of place.

Mark looked up at Ethan, who was still asleep in the hospital bed, but Mark swore he saw movement. Ethan’s eyelashes fluttered, and the hand that was in Mark’s twitched.

“Ethan?” Mark said hopefully. Was he waking up? 

“I love you,” Mark murmured. “I love you, I love you. . .”

Somewhere, in his fake reality, Ethan heard the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I was considering ending things on a happier note, but I felt like it would just be too satisfying. This way, the reader gets to decide if things eventually worked out or not. If anyone has actually read this fic, thank you so much for taking the time to do so! 
> 
> Memento mori, Unus Annus.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment and let me know what you think! I'm open to any constructive criticism as long as it's said politely (yes, I'm a bit sensitive). Thanks for reading!


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